Of Forms and Ressurrections
by juniorjay
Summary: A response to the "Death Challenge" by CoastalFirebird in FFN. Link is: /s/7388001/1/Death-Challenge a better summary and a more fitting title will be updated once it is available
1. Chapter 1

_Everything feels heavy. She should be trying to break free, but she feels it is better this way. Just to let herself be pulled into nothingness. Deeper and deeper into sweet, sweet oblivion. Never mind that her limbs are getting numb. It won't matter later anyways. Noises, they seem very distant, and it is being taken farther and farther away. Now, everything becomes dimmer, light going away from her eyes. Just a little longer, and all of this will be over…_

"Hey!" and a sharp slap to her shoulder blades.

"Great. Just. Great." she muttered to herself "This is the first time in ages that I am not drowning in paperwork. What would a five minute nap be?!" she shouted to no one in particular, massaging her shoulder.

"It's office hours. Do it on your break time. " a pause. "See? You are disturbing public order!" she heard a voice from her back.

"Wow. Like it's not my fault that I'm the one doing all your backlogs from the last time you went on vacation." she said. "By the way. that hurts. That slap of yours will definitely leave a bruise" she said, turning her eyes on her co-worker.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I just need to wake you up as quickly as possible. Admit it. That was pretty effective, eh?" the co-worker said.

"Yeah. Very effective. This thing would hurt well until tomorrow. Let me guess. You have a date later and you need me to take over your collection list. Again." she said even before her co-worker opened her mouth to explain.

"Really? You would? Thank you so much!" her co-worker squealed as she glared at her. "No! I'm not asking for that! Boss called for you actually."

" WHAT! AND YOU DID NOT TELL ME SOONER?!" she yelled " YOU ARE SOOO GONNA GET IT ONCE I GET BACK ! JUST SO YOU WAIT!" she continued as she started running towards her boss' office.

-line break-

A knock on the door. " Hey boss, am I in trouble?" she said, peering from the semi-open door.

A quick 'sit down' was the only acknowledgement she received form her supervisor.

Not wanting to incur her supervisor's wrath or incur it further, whichever the case may be, she quickly made her way to the desk and sat down, waiting for whatever judgment to pass.

"I believe you are already done with your collections, is that correct?"

"Yes sir."

"And the reports?"

"All has been routed to your office already, sir."

"I see."

She swears this silent treatment is the worst. Can't her boss just tell her what she did wrong and get it over with? Why let her stew like this and prolong her agony like this?

"Not that I'm being rude or anything, but is there any reason you called for me, sir?"

Her boss just looked at her for a moment and went back to his paperwork. After an eternity, at least to her, he pulled out a folder and said "Do you remember this file?"

The time it took for the folder to leave her supervisor's hands to her side of the table afforded her a quick nervous breakdown; thoughts including but not limited to: O _h, shit what have I done now?, I swear it was just that one time!_ and, _How can I get myself out of this mess?_.

"You might want to save yourself a coronary and look at the file."

"Of course. Sorry sir." she said, picking up the file. Upon laying eyes on the file, she uttered a string of profanities, completely forgetting she's still in her supervisor's office.

The sound of clearing one's throat took her out of her invective. Eyes widening at her current audience, she managed to look abashed as she mumbled a 'sorry about that, sir' to her supervisor.

"Fully understandable in this case, so I'll let that unprofessional behavior slide this time. Now, I believe you have questions?"

Slipping into a calculating look, she reviewed the file. Not to say that she does not know what is in the file, she's assigned to this case, from the first contact, to all subsequent contacts made, none of which were welcome, nor appreciated. A contact without a collection messes up one's quota. And that is never a good thing. The last page warranted a good look though.

"Please don't tell me this is not a application for dispatch form."

"This will be the final dispatch, I assure you."

"Have they given up on him or something? Please tell me I'm allowed to process a collection this time."

"Management has decided that he qualified for the Program, as indicated by Departmental Order Number 444."

"Oh". It was the only thing she can say without being totally unprofessional in front of her supervisor. She then pulled out a pen from her pocket, signed her name at the bottom of the form and said "What room, sir?"

 **A/N:**

 **Yes, I know I should not be starting another series as In the Name of Equivalence is still ongoing. But this chapter is already written even before I discovered AO3! It's supposed to be a sappy love story between a guy and a reaper girl, but then again, I was fifteen that time and that was thirteen years ago. So I adapted it to fit the "Death Challenge" by CoastalFirebird in FFN. So, Enjoy and don't forget to show your support. :)**

 **usual disclaimers. Only this chapter is wholly mine as including the mistakes (yep, unbeta'd)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Anything from the Harry Potter universe is owned by JK Rowling**

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear—

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.

However, this is not to last. He is starting to hear sounds, as if the world was on mute and someone is turning the volume up little by little.

Clacks of shoes on tiles.

Indistinct conversations.

Doors opening and closing shut.

He then decides something is not right. He opens his eyes and is greeted by the blinding brightness of a fluorescent bulb.

Wherever he was, he is definitely not in the forbidden forest anymore.

"About time, Mister Potter. Please remove your person from the office floor and reposition yourself to the chair in front of you."

"What? What am I doing here? Where am I?" Harry asked the voice, his head going a bit woozy because of sitting up so quickly.

"Save me the existential crisis and please do sit down Mister Potter. To the chair, please." The person behind the desk stated, boredom and irritation barely concealed.

Harry Potter can only stare at the person behind the desk.

"B-but I'm d-dead." he said

"A very astute observation. Please, the seat?" the person pressed on

"But I'm dead. Right?" Harry, repeated, more on trying to convince himself than anyone else

"Yes, you are dead. Gone, deceased, departed, passed, kicked the bucket, six feet under! Now, in the name of all things holy-". The person took a deep breath and then said, "Please, Mister Potter, do us all a favor and sit down. Please."

This got Harry going, sitting down on the offered chair

"Do you know why you are here?" she started. "No, I take it back. Don't answer that. Let me just go out real quick. Don't get yourself killed again in the mean time" she said, standing to leave the room

Forgoing all notions of social etiquette, Harry blurted out "What do you mean 'don't get myself killed again'?" before she managed to reach the door

"Why, thank you for asking how I am, Mister Potter. I'm good, thank you!" was the response, done in an falsely cheery voice. Suddenly changing tones to one of exasperation, she continued, "Honestly, would it actually kill you to be polite everytime we meet?"

"Every time? What do you mean? This is the first time I saw you!"

Harry received a raised eyebrows for his hysteria.

A moment later, understanding dawned on the person's face. "Oh right! As far as you are concerned, this is your first time here! Stupid me." she said, more to herself. This time facing Harry, he stood up and said; "Welcome to the Grim Reaper Dispatch Society, Special Processing Division."

This stunned the young wizard to silence.

"Let me just go retrieve your records. Just go get yourself comfortable." she said as moved again towards the door "Don't go anywhere, okay?" she added before she closed the door, leaving the young wizard to gather his thoughts alone in the room.

 **A/N: I just need to get this out of the way, I may have copied the organizational structure of the Grim Reapers form Kuroshitsuji. None of them makes an appearance, though author can be persuaded if I get enough requests. ( I swear, if this is not blatant enough for a hint for reviews, I don't know what is).**

 **I have not decided on a name for my OC yet. Nah, maybe I should just leave her nameless.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Anything from the Harry Potter universe is owned by JK Rowling**

Harry did not notice her coming back to the office with a thick file folder in her hands until she spoke.

"Mister Potter? Shall we get started?" she said, sitting back down on the office chair.

"Where am I? I'm dead right?" was Harry's first question

"As we have established, yes, you are indeed deceased. Though before we go on to that, let me give you a brief background of what usually happens when someone dies. At least on our perspective. So, once someone kicks the bucket, we check the scene to review the deceased's cinematic records, that is the life story of said person on a more accessible format, then make the determination on how to process the soul of the deceased. Usually, we just file the paperwork for the initial review endorse and them to upper management -"

"Do you know what happens to them after you endorse them?" Harry asked, interrupting the lecture

"Beats me. That's above my pay grade. I'm only a white collar employee. Going back -

"What about ghosts?"

"Ghosts are not souls, they are a copy of the consciousness of a soul who refused to accept the fact that they have moved on. Think magical paintings, only more... spectral. The souls have long moved on, only they don't know that. Anyways-"

"Are there souls that you cannot, you know, collect?"

"Not that common, but not that unusual as well. We only do not have to contend with demons, nasty evil little shits, also, other creatures who feed on souls like dementors. Then there's the occasional freak accidents to deal with. Bad for one's quota. Real, real bad for audit. But I digress, moving on-

"But what about - "

"Oh for crying out loud! We are on a schedule here Mr Potter! Save the questions for later!" the irritated reaper shouted. She barreled on before Harry can get in another word, "Now, as I was saying, most collected souls get endorsed to upper management for proper processing. Rarely though, there are some souls who will be referred back to the land of the living if certain requirements are met-"

"What does all of this have to do with me?"

A glare worthy of Snape was the only reply Harry received. After a few minutes of tense silence, the Grim Reaper then said: "Thank you. Now, can we get this going without interruptions? You have time to ask your questions at the end of my explanation."

A sheepish 'sorry' was Harry's reply.

The Grim Reaper then continued. " So, where were we? Oh. Right. Certain requirements for a ticket back to the land of the living. Gist of the requirements though goes along like if the world's better off having a soul alive than dead, another shot at life is granted. The reaper in charge of the case completes an "Application Granting Reintegration of a Soul to the Mortal Realm" form, in triplicate, along with a written justification for said application, also in triplicate, to be submitted to the offices of Life, Death, and Fate. If approved, said soul will be placed back to the where we found them, save tweaking the circumstances to ensure the soul's body would survive. The memories of the said soul would be overwritten to remove any knowledge of this resurrection business and the poor sod handling the case will somehow find themselves with a fuckton of overtime to compensate for all the work hour lost because of it and a nice little black mark to go with his employment record since THEY DID NOT MEET THEIR QUOTA!" she explained in rising hysteria, the last part came out as a shout.

She then took a breath, and said "And here, young man, is exactly where you come in."

"I can help you with the paperwork if it helps any."

"It's okay. I have managed on my own ON THE FIRST TWELVE TIMES!"

"Wait, what? Twelve? I just died today!" Harry then protested. Dying is a very momentous affair, he would have remembered that. Right?

"Then, what do you have to say about these, Mister Potter" the reaper said, throwing an official looking file envelope at the table. True enough, after the cover page and the bio page, Harry found twelve packets of "Departmental form 13-B: Application Granting Reintegration of a Soul to the Mortal Realm: Death Copy", each with varying degrees of age. He then decided to read each file one by one.

 **A/N:**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Anything from the Harry Potter universe is owned by JK Rowling**

 **Warning: Characters may be OOC**

 _Date of Birth/Date of Death: 31 July 1980 - 31 October 1981_

 _Cause of Death: Cardiac Arrest due to Spell Damage_

"I died that night?" Harry asked the reaper, "So, my mum's sacrifice..."

"Ah. the dying's last wish. Powerful enough on it own, but bumped up with extra powers from the higher ups, can produce very powerful results. Even enough to destroy a soul's vessel down to nothing. So to answer your question, Mister Potter, your mother's sacrifice was not in vain."

 _Date of Birth/Dated of Death 31 July 1980 - 05 Nobember 1987_

 _Cause of Death: Blunt Cardiac Trauma Caused by Fatal Fall_

"Wait, a fall?"

"Accidental magic are not as reliable due to its nature. Especially if you did not specify what you want to happen."

 _Date of Birth/Dated of Death 31 July 1980 - 22 September 1991_

 _Cause of Death: Multiple Injuries form Animal Attack_

Harry was about to ask which of Hagrid's animal had maimed him this time, but the reaper beat him to the punch.

"Yes, that was a special brand of hell. Four 13-B's, Mister Potter, Four. One for you, another for Miss Hermione Jean Granger, another for Mister Ronald Billius Weasley and another one for Mister Neville Longbottom. Imagine the paperwork." she shuddered, remembering the countless overtime she did to have that completed

'Fluffy then', Harry thought to himself.

Most of the dates and the subsequent cause of death made sense, however some entries, surprised Harry.

 _Date of Birth/Dated of Death 31 July 1980 - 22 October 1996_

 _Cause of Death: Respiratory Failure due to overdose_

"Overdose?"

"If I remember correctly, that was the time that Miss Ginerva Molly Weasley doubled the dosage of Amortentia she was feeding you. Bam! Overdose!"

"Ginny fed me-"

"No Mister Potter, was feeding. Please note the verb tense? Past progressive, something conveys a sense of ongoing action in the past. Operative word: ongoing."

"Wait, ongoing? Ginny? What do you mean-" Harry sputtered, his mind stuttering to a halt.

"Oh, my dear sweet summer child. If only you know..." the reaper said condescendingly, shaking her head at Harry.

"It's my life you know. I should know better than anyone." Harry then said

"Tell me, Mister Potter, have you actually sat down and reviewed your whole life? I did. Please be reminded I was the one who reviewed you life twelve, correct that, thirteen times, including this death of yours. I believe I can say I know better."

"Then tell me what happened, if you know better."

The reaper was about to go on another tirade when someone knocked on the office door. The reaper went to meet the door knocker, and received a piece of paper.

Harry watched as the reaper's face transformed to that of an unholy glee.

"Woohoo! Full disclosure permit from the Fate office! Thank you Boss! I love you! I love you so much!" She shouted, practically skipping back to her seat, throwing flying kisses in the air.

Harry just looked at her as if she'd grown another head.

"This makes life a whole lot easier." She said to herself, looking at Harry, she said "Shut up. Just. Shut. Up. Let me savor this moment first. Don't jinx it." Harry wisely just shut up and let her savor whatever moment it was.

"So, questions?"

"What was that you just received?"

"My boss just got me a Full Disclosure Permit. This means I can provide all info to you that I deem necessary. Now I don't need to censor myself!"

"Why bother censoring yourself when you'll wipe my memory of all these if you bring me back?"

"So you do know how to listen. Nice. But not quite correct." She then took several deep breaths and continued. "Let's just set aside everything I said a while back and let us start on a different track."

Harry then steeled himself for another lecture.

"You. Fucked up. Horribly."

That was not how he expected it would start.

"You kept dying when you are not supposed to, so much so that upper management and other associated departments took notice. Because of this, management has decided that the usual methods is not effective in you case and further decided you need a good whack on the head. Hence, you have been enlisted in "The Program" under the Departmental Order 444."

"The Program?"

"Yep! The. Program. Also known as a 13-B-." a dramatic pause "on steroids"

Harry blinked. What are 'steroids', he asked himself? And what does it have to do with anything?

Without prompting, she continued; "Here's how it works: Instead of the usual, you know, complete the 13-B, clean the soul's memories of dying, return said soul to the land of the living and tweaking the events to remove the fatal element and hope that somehow, the deceased would straighten up." she took a breath before continuing, "The enlistee will not only be returned with full memories of the events, including them dying and this briefing, but will also return at a specific time of their choosing. Of course, this is with the management's approval, but still."

"And I'm an enlistee?"

"Yep."

"And the full disclosure permit?"

"Ah. Right. before I forget. Those special kind of idiots who gets enrolled in the program goes back with the knowledge that they died and how they died. No more other information. Usually, that should be enough as they usually do not have to deal with so much shit going on their lives. But you, my dear, are a very special kind of snow flake. A very, very special type of snowflake."

"Sorry?"

"Management decided you just knowing you died just won't cut it, for reasons to be disclosed later, so they gave me permission to point out things to help you in your resurrection. You know, the what happened's and the whodunnit and stuff. Hence, the request for the full disclosure permit. And now we have it, we can begin." A smirk so gleefully evil crossed her face which had Harry be on edge. "So, Mister Potter, are you ready?"

 **A/N: acknowledgements: harry potter wiki for the characters' middle names**

 **I really have no grasp on how Harry Potter thinks. I really should get back to research...**

 **Yes, I know, tirades. Let my OC be, please? She's doing 16 hour workdays everyday, no days off, no vacation days since Harry Potter first died. (Blame the 13-B's). You know that kind of work environment will just kill anyone. Oh. Right. The OC is not alive to begin with. But still. Yeah. Her boss should really be granting that Vacation Days she has stacking up. (I'm looking at you, Death Department)**


End file.
